


Stacking the Deck

by Aly_H



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alliances, Gen, Injury, Jedi Knight Commander, Pre-Relationship, Recruitment, Set during the Odessen construction in Chapter 9, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire Spoilers, more tags & characters to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Lana Beniko fears that the Commander of the Alliance may not be able to carry the full weight of what they are building. The Odessen Alliance is simply too big, and so she and Theron Shan set out to collect other "heroes" - both famed and infamous - from across both the Republic and Empire so that when the Alliance needs the impossible done it does not fall solely on one woman's shoulders.





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored, and decided to do this fic for my own self-indulgence. It's marked as incomplete but it's not actually going anywhere definitive. I'll just add more chapters as I figure out amusing ways that my other characters might've been recruited.
> 
> It's set using a generic - unseen - Commander of the Alliance with a female JK background rather than a fully fleshed character.

The list he scrolled through was long enough to surprise him – twelve names from both side of the Alliance and a few more with notes of _needs further investigating_ attached below. And unlike most lists of this nature he recognized most of the names.

The exceptions being a few whose records were a buried a little – or a lot – deeper than the others. Spies and criminals.

“You have quite a few handpicked recruits on this list,” he hedged trying to get a response – or an explanation – from the Sith. When she didn’t give him more than a look that read _obviously_ he continued, “A lot of personalities here. And not all of them are known for meshing well with others.”

“We’ll find a way to manage them,” Lana sat back. “The names on that list are all people who could be useful. The Commander can’t do everything. She can’t be everywhere. But we need people _as_ capable of handling the threats that are coming up as she is.”

“So why not have her recruit them like the others?”

“Not all of those personalities will…‘mesh’ with our illustrious Commander. I doubt she would be capable of persuading a few of them.” Lana’s wry smile said he missed something when he’d glanced the information over.

Theron frowned and looked at the names once more. He’d not paid close attention past titles – Darth This tended not to be too different from Darth that. The same could be said of Jedi of similar ranks. There were two Master’s on the list.

“Wait, Lana!” his eyes widened and he bolted from his seat in the direction that the Sith was leaving the fledgling War Room. “You put Nox on this list! Isn’t he _insane_?”


	2. Cipher Nine, Aydin Olasee

Stepping off his shuttle on Rishi he narrowed his eyes at the ramshackle buildings of Raider’s Cove. Lana had been absolutely certain their first recruit was _somewhere_ in the settlement. Certain enough he wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t planned for him to get kidnapped…again. Especially as she had been detained helping the Commander settle a disagreement over what level of secrecy was necessary for secrets in the Force Enclave.

On confronting her about it she’d informed him that SCORPIO was the source of the tip regarding his target’s location. Which…wasn’t really _more_ comforting.

A ping went off on his Communicator as a message came in from an unknown source. He eyed it suspiciously when he paused to read it:

**_Subject: Capitalize on your credits!_ **

_The Emerald Orobird is the premier dining experience on rishi!_

_Alone in its vast array of colorful beverages and tasty food We Will be sure to Meet all your expectations! No customer leaves unsatisfied with our Explosions of culinary delight we are sure to Please!_

_open all hours!_

_happy hour from Noon to two!_

_save your credits and visit us!_

He blinked a few times. It was a poor code. Something he was familiar with though from years of knowing Jonas Balkar who insisted on writing messages like this into just about every message he sent. Jonas’s rambling coded messages were usually more…grammatically correct.

_The Emerald Orobird. Alone. We Will Meet. No Explosions Please. Noon._

He narrowed his eyes. As it was he wasn’t sure there was any way to track the sender of the ‘advertisement’. The coding to identify the sender’s location was totally corrupted...someone was watching him and knew exactly who he was.

Likely someone in the SIS to be teasing him for his less than orthodox and somewhat infamous approach to espionage…subtly was not always his greatest suit. And to be using the somewhat joking encoding method there was a short list of friendly agents (far shorter now than it used to be, too) that he could think would pester him for fun – Jonas himself included.

Still…if Cipher Nine really was on Rishi there was a good chance that anyone in his former agency was watching the man. Especially given that even for a Cipher, Nine’s history with the SIS was particularly fraught.

It turned out that the Emerald Orobird was a dingy out of the way Cantina filled with just as many pirates and colorful locals as the Blaster’s Path.

As much as he’d have rather hurried off the planet when none of his other contacts or methods of finding the elusive former Imperial agent bore fruit – he wasn’t even totally sure what the man looked like (not that having a holo wouldn’t have _really_ helped anyways, given that agents were known to abandon their own faces in the service of the Empire) – he’d found himself sitting in the back of the Cantina watching for anyone who might be a fellow spy.

Theron had briefly considered abandoning the search and trying a different avenue but Lana was right. Even with all the recruits they’d had from all across the galaxy the Alliance needed more _heroes_. From both sides of the war. People who could actually take some of the weight off their Commander’s shoulders.

One Jedi could do a _lot_ but she was still just one person…

He glanced up watching a group of pirates come in, chatting.

Crimson eyes from the group met his gaze before looking away.

The Mirialan stood out in the company, but not for any particular reason. Handsome, sure, more so than the others, but his gear was the same scuffed and worn style – a long black and red coat that was well loved – and a modded rifle. At one of his hips a vibroknife hung.

Nothing that stood out with the raiders. His boots were just as old and used too, and not nearly clean enough for an Imperial Agent. But…

Cipher Nine was supposed to be a green-skinned alien. And while that didn’t necessarily mean Mirialan…Theron kept an eye on the man as the pirates got their drinks.

It occurred to Theron that the mysterious message from that morning might have another source…

Sure enough it wasn’t long before the one in question was sauntering over – a few of his crewmates sending teasing complaints after him - _get back to the ship on time this time, Ellodai!_ and _careful you don’t break this one too_ – as he sat at the table, clearly ignoring his friends now.

The smirk was a flirtatious one, and crimson colored eyes – natural colored due to his heritage, Theron realized, not Force corrupted the way some people who worked around Sith too long got – sweeping over him, lingering in ways that made the color rise in his cheeks even despite his own training.

“So,” he spoke, his voice dropping too low to carry further than the table in the din. “I see you got my message, Agent Shan.”

Theron took a moment to observe the Cipher. There was a reason that the SIS had placed a strict avoidance warning on the Imperial Agent. Even ‘retried’ with the decommissioning of Imperial Intelligence the man was dangerous. And he was now keenly aware that he couldn’t see Nine’s knife-hand through the table.

“Who am I to say know to such an obvious invitation?” Theron grinned back, forcing his posture to relax and keeping his own hand from creeping towards his blaster. “Cipher Nine isn’t it?”

“It used to be. Imperial Intelligence is no more and I no longer serve Sith Intelligence,” the man tilted his head. “Why is the Alliance looking for me? I’m not in this game anymore.”

“Lana Beniko thinks you could help us.”

That got his attention, and both hands slid onto the table, clasped together. The other’s expression slipped from the flirty mask to something quieter and more curious.

When he spoke again the accent wasn’t Rishi anymore, but the clipped and polished tones of the Kaas City he’d heard just about every Imperial Agent ever use.

“So Lana got your girl off ice after all,” he mused. “You must be happy, Shan.”

“There’s nothing between me and-”

“I know – but that doesn’t change how _you_ feel about the Commander. So, what does Lord Beniko want?”

Theron sighed, still not sure what to make of the man. Or even the mask that was being presented. Talented agents were hard to read, especially when they got paranoid. And Nine had plenty of reason not to trust anyone with SIS ties that landed in his path.

“You, on Odessen. Not sure what she wants you doing.”

“She does know that I cannot actually wrangle SCORPIO into behaving themselves?”

Theron frowned. “How did you-?”

The Imperial tilted his head in open amusement, “Handsome, she’s a highly-advanced killer droid of questionable origin that has a particularly spiteful streak who repeatedly threatened to kill me.”

Before Theron could respond to that the other laughed softly - “I’ll need a ride.”

“What?”

“To Odessen. I don’t have a ship of my own. They’re expensive and Intelligence spoiled me terribly.”

Theron blinked rapidly. He’d expected more of an argument. Or at least to have to persuade Cipher Nine to join them. Maybe even an explosion or two.

“I owe Lana a favor or five,” the other spy shrugged. “By the way, my name’s Aydin Olasee.”


	3. Captain Claribel Fyre - The Voidhound

“Caf,” the voice at her elbow nearly made her jump out of her skin as a black-clad arm entered her field of vision to deposit a mug of steaming caf beside the long empty one from earlier.

She must’ve been more absorbed in her reading than she’d thought for him to startle her. Although Aydin was particularly good at it anyways.

Next to her Theron glowered slightly – his mug still empty and no replacement had been brought for the former SIS agent by his Imperial counterpart. For once she couldn’t be bothered to chide the Imperial about his lingering grudges towards spies associated with the Republic and just took a drink from the mug he’d brought.

Aydin was taking a drink from another plain mug as he peered at the data she’d had pulled up before she’d gotten distracted with the morning’s reports, “So, looking for the Voidhound? I would’ve thought our friends in the Republic could find her easily. But I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that _his_ daughter is paranoid and elusive.”

Theron made a noise half-way between distressed and agitated at that. The Voidhound was one of the most famous smugglers in the galaxy. She operated in Republic and neutral space. Had contacts within both the Jedi and the Mandalorians. And might as well have been a ghost with what he was turning up.

Most of the other recruits on the list they at least had clues and ideas as to where to start. And as grateful as he was for an excuse _not_ to be meeting strange Sith who may-or-may-not respond poorly to an invitation to the Alliance it was frustrating to get so little.

“If nothing else I now understand her father’s difficulties in locating her,” Lana sighed.

That got a chuckle, “Old Grey never looked very hard for her either, I’m guessing.”

“I thought ‘Old Grey’ was just a myth you Imperials told to scare your recruits into behaving. ‘Lie too much and Old Grey will take you away’,” Theron commented.

Aydin snorted before looking to Lana -  “One of Hylo’s contacts just landed with a delivery of some Rakatan tech for the slug and his folks. Ship’s got the name _The Hapless Blurrg._ Corellian light-weight freighter.”

“And?”

Aydin reached over and pointed to a section of data on the screen. “I admit it could just be a coincidence. But I’m due for that appointment with Sana-Rae.”

Lana nodded absently – she’d ordered Aydin to undergo a full psych evaluation with both the Force healers _and_ medical staff because she wanted to be sure any lingering effects of his exposure to the Imperial brain washing program was dealt with immediately.

She very much doubted the long-term health consequences of the serums had been studied given that most subjected to the process rarely survived longer than a few years given the nature of their work for the Empire.

_XS Stock light freighter. Name: The Dancing Blurrg. Damaged irreparably during a delivery of crucial medical supplies to Jedi healers through the Eternal Fleet blockade. Captain Claribel Fyre paid 3/4ths value in addition to delivery fees. Authorized by Jedi Master Sumalee_.

Aydin was right to point out the coincidence. Or it was the Force lending a hand.

Abandoning the half-emptied mug at the workstation she rushed for the area that had been claimed by Hylo’s people.

“I’m looking for one of the pilots that came in – the one that delivered Rakatan artifacts,” Lana told Hylo.

Hylo frowned a little – Sith looking for her people was usually a bad sign. Especially if it was someone as high up the Alliance food chain as Lana Beniko was. “This is her.”

A woman was chatting with Hylo as the Mirialan authorized a payment of credits. Something about if someone could get a decent drink at the cantina a few floors up or not. The conversation died as soon as the stranger spotted the approaching Sith.

Short enough that _tiny_ might be more apt a description. Brown hair swept into a pony tail, green eyes – a lot of barely detectable scarring except for around her jaws where it got worse and there were visible cybernetics. One of her eyes looked like it might be artificial.

Clothing wise she was dressed like half the spacers in the room. A smuggler’s vest and shirt combo, twin blasters set at each hip. Her pants were decorated with the distinctive line of first class Corellian bloodstripes.

“Can I help you?” she raised a brow, crossing both arms and rocking back on her heel as she lifted her chin up to meet Lana’s gaze. Her eyes flicked over to behind Lana as Theron approached, and her lips tightened into a frown for just a moment before relaxing.

Lana stared her down for a moment before nodding, “I believe so, Voidhound.”

“Isn’t she a little short for a legendary smuggler?” Theron asked.

“ _Ugh_ ,” she grimaced. “Of all the names, that’s the worst one. All trouble, no reward. Makes _me_ want to hide out in carbonite for a while.”

Hylo laughed a little before walking away, “Good luck, Fyre. We’ll have a chat about you not mentioning this later.”

“Take it up with Bowdaar! He knows who I am, that fuzzy bastard was _there_ ,” she returned to the other smuggler before eying the two Alliance brass in front of her.

“Well, at least we got saved a flight,” Theron joked. “So, ‘Fyre’, is it?”

“Captain Claribel Fyre,” the woman sighed, uncrossing her arms to hook them in her belt. “I’m guessing you’re not looking for me as a freelance smuggler considering that I already do take work from you lot.”

“Your talents are wasted in the capacity of a simple smuggler,” Lana replied.

“Uh-huh. And if you’d tracked me down on, say, Hutta what would you be telling me?”

“Offering you money,” Theron said cheerfully.

“Money’s never been enough for me to get involved in things _that_ big. Corellia was a stolen ship that turned into a favor for a friend and escalated _very_ quickly.”

“Arcann terrorizes this galaxy, threatens the freedom that you abandoned everything you could have been in the Empire to steal. Do you truly think that the difference you make ferrying trinkets here and there is comparable to what you are capable of?”

The glare leveled at Lana for that was near deadly but after a moment the expression softened as the smuggler heaved a sigh. “…full, _free_ medical treatment.”

At their continued silence and blank stares the smuggler shrugged a bit:

“My first condition. I’ve got a lot of internal cybernetics. The ones that regulate my lungs are beginning to fail.”

“And your other conditions?”

“I want to know if your people ever find out what happened to someone – Valirek Silver. I assume you know who he is given how you two became famous?”

“The Jedi who freed Revan from the Emperor.”

“He’s a friend. Disappeared during the fighting. I’ve not got much hope but…” she shrugged. “That’s it. Do those two things and I’ll play Voidhound. Not sure what you’re expecting out of it, I’ve never been anything besides a _really_ good pilot.”


	4. Darth Nox

On one hand _finding_ his target had been relatively easy this time, and involved no spy games or cloak and dagger intrigues.

Talos Drellik, one of the Commander’s new recruits for their science division, had been able to point them to the Darth’s location with perfect accuracy. Had even said that he was certain that ‘My Lord will probably be delighted to aid the Alliance.’

On the other.

He was now trapped in a haunted tomb.

With a Sith Lord.

And he couldn’t walk.

And no way out.

Theron Shan swore as he tried to straighten the leg. Nope. Definitely broken.

“Sit still,” the Sith murmured.

His lit weapon had been their only source of light as he peered into the shadows ahead of them and then at the distant point of light above where the hole in the ground that Theron had been standing on had opened.

After a moment the lightsaber vanished and a light probe took its place. The small device having been pulled from one of the Sith’s pockets it hovered in the air by them as he approached.

“…this won’t be pleasant if you’re conscious for it,” the Sith commented. “If you’d let me I’ll block you off from your pain.”

“Let you?” he hissed.

Gold eyes blinked once, slow, before a slow smile spread on the Sith Lord’s face, in this lighting and with the harsh ridges of his Pureblood ancestry, it looked sinister. “I wouldn’t invade your mind without permission, Theron Shan. Even if I could do so without destroying it.”

Trying to jerk away from the Sith jostled the injured leg and he had to bite back a cry. He’d been hurt worse, he knew he had, but just how vulnerable he was with a _Sith_ here was beginning to creep into his mind. It was not a comforting thought.

“Do I really have any choice?”

“Of course. Not that I would advise you remaining aware while I straighten the bones in your leg and mend you enough to walk. Have you received Sith healing before?”

“No. Just…do it.”

“You’ll need to let me in, Shan. Your mind is well disciplined. It is not an advantage now.”

Theron hesitated but slowly, carefully opened his mind up to the Sith in front of him. It was unusual letting someone _in_ rather than keeping them out. And he nearly panicked as he felt the Sith’s presence. Even without the Force he could tell how dark and _massive_ his power was.

Nox shifted to place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. And then Theron felt everything fall away. Not totally, he still _knew_ what was happening but it was distant.

He found himself wishing he’d taken Lana up on her offer to come with – he’d refused because on principle it was a poor idea to have two Sith in the same room as each other when trying to convince one to become a subordinate of another.

That seemed even more apt when applied to a former Dark Councilor whose seat had been dissolved by Empress Acina and, by all accounts, had taken to sulking in tombs with ghosts.

Perhaps a little overly cautious, though, as Darth Nox had seemed annoyed when his shuttle landed, but after determining that Theron was not there to kill him he had simply picked up his survey equipment and proceeded to ignore the spy.

Nox’s pureblood heritage showed in his crimson skin and the way that his eyebrows were so strongly exaggerated above his eyes but he lacked many of the more obvious tendrils of his kind. The sharp ridges where they might’ve grown gave his face a severe look even for his obvious youth. Deep scars framed his mouth in a sort of curious parentheses.

His eyes were bright gold, far clearer than Theron had expected in a Sith. And he lacked much of the…aura that clung to the most powerful Dark Side users. The one that made you think of death and rot.

“Arcann’s out there destroying the galaxy and you’re here mapping rocks?” Theron had at last asked, frustrated with the lack of response that his more polite overtures had gotten. “Do you care so little about all of it?”

Finally the Sith looked over, “The Emperor’s spirit is awake. Hiding, but definitely awake and loose from whatever prison Arcann managed to trap it in for five years. The same day that _he_ reawakened your Outlander Commander escaped the Spire.”

A jolt of fear made him stiffen, if this Sith was one of the fanatics that still believed in the Emperor…or even one that _didn’t_ believe but would place attacking Vitiate as the highest priority.

“Have her nightmares begun yet? Is the woman that you’ve made your leader the same one who faced Revan with you, Agent Shan? Would _she_ even know if she was no longer the one in control?”

“I - …how do you know about Valkorian?”

That got another laugh, this one fuller, and the smile teasing but it felt more real than before, “Did I? Or was it just a guess, Agent?”

That got a glare – Theron might’ve tried to go for something more polite but it seemed like the only time he got a reaction was when he was honest.

“I have no interest in serving Vitiate. I never have. The Empire is no longer my responsibility, and I have no stake in this war being fought, Theron Shan.”

“What makes you certain that the Commander can’t win against him in her own head?”

“Experience,” came the cold reply. “Even if she _could_ – and does - that is not the point. My interest has never been war, why should I throw myself back into it for some Jedi hero that trouble follows?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, continuing on to the next stone, and releasing one of the scanning probes that he was using to map the region at it.

Theron had followed after him –

**_Crzck!_ **

The sound had come from beneath his feet. Loud as a blaster shot.

The Sith lunged at him, grabbing hold of his wrist and beginning to pull but the ground on which he stood on had collapsed too and they both went hurtling into the darkness. Bringing them to their current predicament.

“Theron,” the pain began to bleed back into his awareness as the strange forced distance from himself receded with the departing shadows of the Sith’s intrusion. “Order your mind again so any others here won’t take advantage.”

Theron blinked a few times. His leg was straight, and the pain was less than before. A makeshift brace had been fashioned from branches that had fallen with them.

“I’m no healer,” Darth Nox commented. “I did what I could but it is still, essentially, broken. You will be able to walk but it will not be pleasant.”

Making their way through the narrow corridors by the light of the probe Theron frowned, finding a way to distract himself from the slow progress that his limping was costing them – “You wouldn’t have fallen.”

Darth Nox turned his head slightly, looking at him from over his shoulder before turning to watch forward once more. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The hole. Where you were when it opened, you shouldn’t have fallen in. But you moved, to catch me.”

“…if you died Beniko would come looking for you and that’d be troublesome.”

Theron glowered at the Sith’s back – of _course_ – it hadn’t been altruistic at all. He wasn’t sure the rumors of Nox’s insanity were quite accurate but the kriffing bastard was definitely a hermit.

“Let me ask you a question in return, Shan. Why do you follow your Commander?”

“What?”

“That’s another question. You’re terrible at this.”

“…” Shan frowned. “She’s…special.”

“Well, _that’s_ terribly specific.”

Theron hesitated, “…I think that if there’s anyone in the galaxy that has a shot at leading us to peace. _Real_ peace it’s her.”

“Hm,” the acknowledging hum was all he got.

Theron hesitated, “You don’t seem the type to care about much of anything, Nox, why were you following Marr?”

A soft laugh. “Peace. Marr’s leadership would see the Empire victorious or we would cost the Republic enough blood that Saresh’s war cries would ring hollow. Until her voice was silenced we could not afford to try for peace.”

“…that doesn’t sound much like ‘peace’.”

“And broken chains don’t make for freedom.”

“Why are you hiding in a jungle if peace is that important to you?”

Nox paused and smiled at him teasingly, “Theron Shan, I do believe you’re mistaking me for a _Jedi_. I don’t care about peace as an ideal. I care about finding some for _myself_. And it wasn’t your turn to ask.”

“Fine. Ask your question.”

“Have a drink with me?”

Theron nearly fell over as he jerked to a stop and put too much weight on his bad pain. Nope. Darth Nox had definitely _not_ said that.

Except…the Sith bastard was laughing. An arm wrapping around him and suddenly Theron found that he had a rather tall crutch aiding him along.

“Sorry,” Nox said once his shoulders stopped shaking. “I didn’t expect you to try to undo all my hard work, but that was cruel of me.”

“I didn’t say _no_ ,” Theron muttered.

That got a low chuckle.

“Well then, I suppose I will _have_ to go to Odessen.”

“What?”

“There’s nowhere to get a drink around here, Shan.”

“…what are you up to? Lana’s not going to believe that _Darth Nox_ changed his mind about the Alliance because he wanted to grab a drink with _me_.”

That got a smile, still flirty but far less friendly, “You’re either underestimating how attractive your face is or you’re smarter than most the people I’ve met. I’d assume it’s a bit of both.” A pause when Theron didn't laugh, "I have my reasons."

“Which are?” at least the _very_ powerful Sith Lord he was using as a crutch didn’t take offense to his blatant suspicion.

“Let’s just say…that the Force is guiding me, shall we?”  


	5. Dak Izma the Knight-Errant

“Smell that smoggy air!” At her side the former Cipher had spread his arms out wide and dramatic as he surveyed the city-scape. “Ah, I love Nar Shaddaa, don’t you love Nar Shadda, m’lord?”

She fixed him in a golden glare that only served to make the former Cipher grin more. She was starting to miss Theron’s penchant for explosions _again_ as she remembered why Aydin had been the bane of every superior that he’d ever had – herself included.

“How did you survive Intelligence?” she sighed, pinching her nose.

“Good looks?” he suggested all too cheerfully.

Despite Aydin’s insistence that he was entirely unskilled and that his survival to that point was entirely a matter of dumb luck and coincidence the agent had led them through the warrens of Nar Shaddaa without incident. And now in one of the ramshackle market places he was across the way chatting with one of the vendors.

Returning to her with some kind of steamed buns – half of which he handed over to her, before beginning to eat his own – he finished the first one before giving into the narrowed eyes and frown she was wearing.

“According to Granny the cartel’s got a fat bounty on a light-saber force-using good-doer,” Aydin answered the silent question. “And that I’m much too pretty to be hunting down bounties. She didn’t have much more information than that though.”

“You think the bounty’s on the Jedi?”

“Mmm…if Sana-Rae’s vision was about a Jedi. I don’t like relying on Mystics’ visions. They’re too easy to fake.”

She gave him a flat look – he of all people in the galaxy should know exactly what lengths it took to ‘fake’ a prophecy.

“Eat. They get chewy if they’re cold,” he said instead, pointing at the food and beginning to walk as he ate his own.

“You’re worse than Koth,” she informed him, but still took a bite.

“My Lord! Whatever have I done to warrant such cruelty from you?” Aydin gasped, placing a hand over his heart, crimson eyes sparking with laughter. “I do not eat nearly as much as your Zakuulan does. And I cook. Why, if I wasn’t serving you, Lord Beniko, I would make an _excellent_ husband!”

She was going to answer the ridiculous agent when her attention was drawn to someone. The subtle tug of the Force letting her know to be alert.

A blond Zabrak was sat cross-legged with a battered looking astromech in front of him. He was focused on whatever repair he was carrying out, his back was to the building behind him, however, so it would be impossible to make any approach without him noticing.

 “Lana?” Aydin’s voice was softer – not that he’d been being particularly loud in his dramatics before.

Green eyes flashed up from the work, watching not her but the approach of a pair of bounty hunters. If he’d taken notice of them watching he wasn’t letting on, or simply had his focus on the more immediate threat.

“That man. He’s the one.”

“Blondie with the moving garbage bin? You _sure_?”

She flashed him a glare – she could sense it. It wasn’t as strong a tug as back during the Revanite problem which had drawn her into working with Theron and the Commander but it was similar. The promise of an ally.

The Mirialan raised his hand in acknowledgement and muttered in something in Huttese about the Force before he stepped back, a moment later he blinked out of view, his stealth generator activated and he moved to find a more advantageous position from which to guard her back.

He wouldn’t interfere unless needed. The role of invisible bodyguard was a favorite of his from her time as minister.

The droid had begun to whistle a shrill barrage of insults at the pair of Hunters making the Zabrak’s lips twitch in amusement. A hand patting the dented top as he unfolded his legs and stood up, studying the pair with a head tilted to the side.

“Guessing you’re not here to see me about droid repair, ma’am. Excuse Deesev - I promise they don’t really mean that you look like the back end of a Hutt.”

“You sure this is the guy?” one of the Hunters glanced sideways at his partner.

“Yeah, this is him. I remember him from the war, nearly got his pretty Jedi head cut off on Hoth, didn’t ya?”

“Never been – sounds like a real shit hole. And I’m certainly no Jedi. I can do weapons upkeep too, real good at modding blasters.”

“You think you’re funny, huh?” the woman was predatory while she drew her blaster, a single shot that was deflected harmlessly into the wall as he hand jerked off its aim.

The Jedi seemed to sigh before the woman’s partner was struck from behind by a large chunk of metal – a speeder part? – that had been on the street behind him, crumpling. The woman recovered fast but the Jedi was faster and before long she was on the ground to.

He turned the blaster he’d pulled from the woman’s hand with the Force during the struggle and aimed it at Lana.

“You going to tell me why you’re watching, Sith?”

She approached – no point in pretending not to be an interested party – before she looked down at both bounty hunters. They were still breathing.

“Curious as to why a Jedi Knight is here of all places.”

“The Jedi are gone, didn’t you hear?”

The astromech shrilled, “Jedi = Not Coward// Dak = Coward // Dak = Not Jedi!”

“Thanks for that, Deesev,” Dak, drawled dryly. Before looking back at Lana. “You heard the cranky rust bucket, I can’t be a Jedi.”

She crossed her arms, “Why were you on Hoth?”

“Already said I’ve never been.”

“Dak = Liar.”

“…….one of these days I’m going to _stop_ repairing you, then where will you be?” the zabrak turned to glare at the cantankerous droid.

The D-7 simply whistled rudely in response but didn’t offer any further retort. They reminded her some of the Commander and T7-01 when they got to chatting. Considerably less patriotism though.

“Leave the past buried,” he lowered the blaster and tossed it away. “You’re recruiting. Why?”

“I’m here on behalf of the Alliance. We are gathering forces from all factions to face Arcann in battle.”

There was interest there, curiosity in the way he studied her.

“Besides,” Aydin blinked into view, leaning against the wall casually as if he hadn’t just appeared out of thin air. Though the Jedi seemed hardly surprised at the new arrival, “If you stay here there will just be more Hunters. Someone’s gonna end up dead and it’s probably gonna be someone completely uninvolved.”

“You’re definitely Imperial,” came the dry reply. “The blackmail isn’t necessary. I’ll go. What about you, Deesev?”

The droid beeped an affirmative.

“Guess we’re both going. I’m Jedi Knight Dak Izma and this is Deesev. He’s a survivor from Zadd. I’ve been stuck with him since.”

Didn’t they have enough…. _colorful_ droid personalities at the base already? And why did every Jedi Knight seem to find the strangest droid they possibly could and adopt them? There were reasons that memory wipes were a thing.

It took less than ten minutes for the Jedi to gather his belongings. A shoulder pack that seemed to contain some extra armor pieces and the tools for droid maintenance along with the appearance of a lightsaber at each hip and he and the droid were walking with them towards their ship.

He’d been ready to go before they arrived.

“You always ready to travel this short notice?” Aydin had fallen into step beside the shorter man, reaching over to prod at the pack.

“You know a lot of Jedi with material possessions?” he laughed.

“The Hero of Tython seems to have a knack for collecting bits and bobs. The other day she insisted on giving me six gourmet ration kits. I’m not sure if she was trying to be nice or if she was commenting on my cooking.”

“Mmm…I’d have to see what your cooking’s like to know.” Was that?

“That can certainly be arranged,” Aydin’s purr was definitely flirty.

“Agent,” Lana reprimanded.

“What? He started it!”

D-7 let out a low, disapproving whistle. The droid seemed to share in her exasperation. At least one of the new recruits seemed as if they were going to be a sensible addition to the Alliance. Why was it the _droid_?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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